


Just in Time for Christmas

by sassygaycastiel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Parents, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassygaycastiel/pseuds/sassygaycastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has had a rough relationship history, but will that change before the holidays?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just in Time for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> The holiday stuff doesn't really come in until the end. I just wanted to get it set up for the holiday fluff.

Stiles Stilinski walked toward the park bench with little Scott at his side, hand in hand as their matching plaid scarves flowed in the gusts passing them by. The ground was covered in orange, red, brown, and yellow colored leaves, and they crunched as the two of them stepped foot onto their fragile being. It was evening, and Stiles promised Scott he would take him to the “big park” after school, as Scott would call it. The playground at school simply wasn’t big enough for the antics he wanted to participate in.

            “Not too long today, okay?” said Stiles. “I have to get stuff for Thanksgiving before we get dinner.”

            “But Daddy,” said Scott, in a mildly whiny voice. “Space travel takes a long, long time.”

            “That’s why they invented hyper-speed, kiddo.”

            Scott smiled, and started running off, with his favorite stuffed wolf in his hand. Stiles just barely noticed.

            “Wait a sec,” he said. “Want me to hold Peter while you play, so he doesn’t get dirty?”

            “Oh, right,” said Scott, as if Stiles gave him an important mission.

            It was his favorite toy, and he was rarely ever seen without it. He was so attached to it, he almost never realized that he was taking it into potentially dangerous places for the poor stuffed toy. He’d already faced about five washes after being covered in dirt from Stiles’ backyard, and Stiles had to come up with a convincing story about how Peter was sad every time it happened, and ever since he told that story, Scott’s favorite toy turned into more of a child he felt the need to take care of.

            Stiles held Peter in his lap as Scott played on the playground. Stiles would watch Scott for a while, smiling as his son frolicked in his own imagination, and check his phone at other times, using it as a time to keep up with his social networks, since he was usually too busy to do it any other times.

            When Stiles looked back up, he noticed that Scott was talking to a little girl who was sitting on one of the swings. She had long, red hair that came down to the middle of her back, and her outfit looked just like something that would come out of a fashion magazine. She looked very prim and proper, to say the least.

            After a minute or so, Scott ran over to Stiles with a discouraged look on his face.

            “Daddy she’s on my favorite swing,” he said, shaking Stiles’ arm. “I asked her really nice and said ‘please’ just like you told me, but she still won’t get off the swing.”

            “Why can’t you let her use it?” Stiles asked. “I also told you that sharing is caring, young man.”

            “But that one goes the highest,” he whined. “The other ones aren’t fun.”           

            Stiles had a brilliant and fun solution for every moment of turmoil in Scott’s life. It was almost like he had a five-year-old brain, himself.

            “I think _she_ might be the legendary space pilot,” said Stiles. “I mean, have you seen anyone fly that high?”

            This made Scott think. Stiles could see the gears turning. He faced the swing set to see her skills. Stiles watched as his jaw dropped, watching the little girl soar into the sky via his favorite swing.

            “Whoa,” he said.

            “Maybe you should see if she wants to join your crew.”

            Scott agreed with much excitement, and immediately ran back to the legendary space pilot.

            Shortly after, Stiles heard someone sit next to him, and out of courtesy, he glanced over and gave a polite smile. This slight glance turned into more of a gaze, as he realized that this man was incredibly attractive. He had light stubble on his cheeks and jaw line, as well as his upper lip. He wore a black, leather jacket and black pants, and everything about him read as “tall, dark, and handsome”.

            “Nice wolf,” he said, gesturing to the stuffed toy on Stiles’ lap.

            “Oh uh,” said Stiles, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

            “Is he yours?” the man asked, pointing to Scott.

            “Y-Yeah,” said Stiles, unable to hide his raging nerves. “Well, I mean, he’s not like, ‘mine’ mine, but like, legally he is.”

            “So you’re his adopted father?”

            To go into the tragic story about how Child Protective Services took him away from his cocaine-addicted family, and given to the only reliable person the family knew, or not? He was only a stranger, so there really wasn’t any harm in disclosing this information, right?

            “He had a bad past,” he said. “He definitely needed someone capable of taking care of him.”

            Not too revealing, but just honest enough to show his good nature. He felt utterly proud of himself.

            “How noble of you,” said the stranger. “My little five-year-old adult, Lydia is mine. Legally, just like you.”

            “She’s giving my Scott quite the run for his money,” said Stiles. “She got on his favorite swing and refused his polite attempts to kick her off.”

            “Oh, come on, now. I’ve told her a thousand times now about taking turns. Lyd—“

            “No, no. It’s okay. I made it into a game for him. Don’t worry about it, uh…”

            Stiles wanted to use his name, but he was at a loss. He could call him “handsome stranger”, but nothing could be more awkward than saying that to someone who he didn’t know.

            “Oh, uh, sorry,” said the stranger. “How rude of me. I’m Derek.”

            “Nice to meet you,” said Stiles, extending his hand. “I’m Stiles.”

            Derek took Stiles’ hand, and gripped it firmly as he shook. Despite how strong this man looked, his handshake was firm, but gentle. Stiles wasn’t sure how to react to an attractive stranger talking to him.

            To his surprise, they hit it off quite nicely. They shared many stories about being a single parent (hearing the words “being a single parent” come out of Derek’s mouth was the equivalent of hearing the “Hallelujah” chorus). Stiles was quite surprised to see that this man was actually pretty hilarious, and his sarcastic sense of humor matched well with Stiles’. Never in his life had he had such a lively chat with a perfect stranger, and it helped that Derek was nice to look at.

            Stiles didn’t know how long they talked, but their conversation was interrupted by Lydia walking over to them and plopping herself on Derek’s lap without a word. Derek chuckled a bit.

            “All done?” Derek asked. “Did you like playing with Scott?”

            “He’s weird,” said Lydia. “He thinks I’m the legendary space pilot when I just told him I was a fashion model from…”

            Stiles tuned out the rest of her story as he looked all around the playground for his son. He wasn’t on the swings, playing in the sand, or even hanging off of the slide, like he normally tries to do. Stiles started to feel sweat secreting from his brow.

            “Lydia, I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Stiles. “But where did Scott go?”

            “He said his spaceship ran out of gas,” she said. “So he had to climb to Mars.”

            “Did you see where he went?” Derek asked.

            She simply shrugged. Stiles leapt off of the park bench and started looking all around the playground. He could hear Derek scolding Lydia for just leaving Scott behind, but his lost son was more important. He constantly yelled Scott’s name as he looked around, and he soon saw that Derek and Lydia were helping him. Derek tried to help by asking where his favorite places were to play in the park, since he knew that Lydia had her favorites, as well. Stiles told him that he looked in all of his favorite places already, which made him panic more.

            They heard a rustling in the trees, and that prompted Lydia to run over to it. She looked up into the tree, looked back to Stiles and pointed up into the tree with a proud smile on her face.

            “Found him,” she said, confidently.

            Stiles ran to the tree and looked up at Scott, breathing a sigh of relief.

            “Oh my God, Scott,” said Stiles. “What on Earth are you doing up there?”

            “I had to get to Mars,” said Scott, his voice shaking, and tears rolling down his face. “But now I’m really scared.”

            “I’ll get him,” said Derek, before Stiles could even think of a way of getting him down.

            Stiles watched him as he climbed the tree, quickly and without any sign of being unsteady.

            “My Daddy is _so_ cool,” said Lydia.

            Stiles couldn’t help but smile at that one. He continued to watch as Derek sat on the branch next to Scott, and gently told him not to be scared. Scott climbed onto his back, and that’s when his decent began. Stiles was torn between his heart breaking and feeling the need to chuckle with how terrified Scott looked as they slowly made their way back to the ground. Once Derek’s feet touched the ground, he let Scott down and he immediately ran over to Stiles, and clutched onto his leg.

            “It’s okay, buddy,” said Stiles, as he picked him up and held him close. “You gotta be more careful, okay? You really scared me.”

            Scott nodded and rubbed his eyes. To Stiles’ surprise, he immediately switched gears by showing a wide smile.

            “Did you see how high I got?” he asked.

            Stiles laughed, and gave his son a light squeeze.

            “I’ll make sure to pick up a trophy for ‘World’s Best Tree Climber’ on the way home.”

            Stiles put his son down and Derek approached him, hand-in-hand with Lydia. Stiles couldn’t help but blush. He was technically his savior. Well, Scott’s, to be even more technical.

            “You should at least let me take you out to dinner, or something,” said Stiles. “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t find my Scott.”

            “Oh, it’s no problem,” said Derek. “All my days of forgetting a ladder to save kittens from trees have really paid off.”

            Stiles looked at him with a blank expression.

            “Sorry,” said Derek, with a chuckle. “Firefighter humor.”

            Stiles almost melted at the fact that he was a firefighter. There was a flood of fantasies of being rescued from a fire with Derek shirtless and shimmering, carrying him out of the burning building. He had to snap himself out of the fantasy before Derek could see drool, or something.

            “But if you ever need help finding your son,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles’ hand with that gentle grip of his as he pulled out a pen from his front pocket. “Just give me a call, and I’ll make sure to bring my master finder, here.”

            Stiles looked to Lydia, who was still wearing a confident smile, as he felt Derek write his number on his hand. He just hoped to God that his hand didn’t profusely perspire while he was holding it.

            “Th-Thanks,” said Stiles.

            “Bye, Scott,” said Derek. “Don’t scare you’re dad like that again, okay?”

            Scott nodded nervously, probably as a result of being given a command from a stranger. Lydia broke away from Derek and approached Scott, standing in front of him with her hands behind her back.

            “It was nice to meet you, Scott,” she said. “Even if you were kinda du—“

            “Lydia!” said Derek, grabbing her hand.

            They said their goodbyes, and Stiles chuckled as he heard Derek tell Lydia how to behave. She disagreed, of course, because she felt she wasn’t in the wrong for “telling the truth”. Scott wasn’t paying attention, of course. He was busy holding Peter tight while walking with an obvious pep in his step, probably from making a new friend (sort of).

            Shoot, Stiles had quite the pep in his step, too.

           

            With the recent holiday just passing by, Stiles wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good time to contact Derek. They were both grown individuals who had jobs to attend to and a kid to take care of, so Stiles was at a loss. He had never wanted to make something work more in his life.  Stiles had little time to worry about anything, with his full time job as a barista and a few online classes, so how on earth was he going to find a time for a date with Derek?

            To his surprise, his answer came sooner than later. As he was getting some milk from the back fridge, he felt his phone buzz in his front pocket, and he slipped it out just far enough to see who sent him a text. His stomach performed a full flip when he saw Derek’s name across the screen. He claimed to need to use the restroom, and once he took his apron off, he quickly went into the restroom and slipped his phone out of his pocket so he could read the text.

            “Sorry this is so sudden,” the message began. “But if you’re not busy, would you possibly want to come to lunch with me?”

            Stiles’ smile after reading the text could have brightened up the darkest pits of Hell. He hated eating lunch by himself, anyway. He promptly responded.

            “Only if I get to pick the restaurant ;)” Stiles replied.

            Stiles decided that he actually should use the restroom before heading back to work (who knew when the next rush would show up?), and by the time he finished washing his hands, Derek had already responded.

            “I wouldn't have it any other way,” it said. “Meet at noon?”

            “Sure!” Stiles typed in response. “I like that Italian restaurant on 32nd, if that’s close to you.”

            And so it occurred to Stiles that that was the way they would be able to see each other. A few times a week, Stiles and Derek would set a time for lunch, and they met for an hour to just hang out and get to know each other. It wasn’t much, and Stiles could hardly consider them “dates”, but it was enough to start feeling Derek out for who he was, and it was worth every minute. They laughed, talked non-stop, and Derek claimed that, for the first time, he’d never smiled for longer than a few moments.

            Stiles wanted more, though. He enjoyed the lunch dates, but he wanted something nicer. Something more meaningful, and little did he know, he was about to get it.

            One day at lunch, Derek arrived about ten minutes late, and upon sitting down at Stiles’ table, an apologetic look fell over his eyes.

            “I am so sorry,” he said. “I was sure we’d get back from that call a lot earlier, but traffic sucked.”

            “Don’t sweat it,” said Stiles. “Something about getting to see you in this firefighter t-shirt just makes it all worth while.”

            Derek blushed. Stiles blushed too, as ironic as it was. He was usually good at being forward, but that time felt way different.

            “Well,” said Derek. “Looks like I’ll have to come in and see your whole coffee boy get-up, soon. I bet that’s pretty adorable.”

            They asked the mandatory “how are you’s” and small talk that they bypassed because of Derek’s late arrival, and after the waitress took their order, Stiles looked to Derek, who was biting his lip, and looking down at the table. Stiles made eye contact, and waved his hand in front of his eyes, trying to catch his sight.

            “Someone’s lookin’ broody,” he said. “What could have happened in the last two seconds to make you so sour?”

            “Not sour,” said Derek, still looking at the table. “Just…nervous.”

            “Why? It can’t possibly be my devilishly good looks.”

            Derek chuckled a bit, finally making eye contact with Stiles.

            “No, I just…I have something I wanna ask you.”

            Stiles’ stomach did a turn. He was pretty sure this is how stomachs feel when they’re flipped upside down.

            “I um,” Derek continued. “I wanted to know if you would like to go to dinner with me, sometime. You know, somewhere where everyone is actually dressed nice and where things are more…romantic, I suppose.”

            The delivery wasn’t the best, but he meant well. Derek’s face was bright red the whole time he asked, and his thumbs were constantly twiddling, but how could Stiles say no?

            “Most awkward invitation ever,” said Stiles. “But I guess I’ll accept. I mean, who could say no to that face?”

            Derek blushed again.

            Right as their food came out, Stiles felt his phone vibrating in his pants. He slipped the phone out, his eyes widened, and he shoved it right back into his pocket, Derek watched the entire time, his brows creasing.

            “What?” he asked.

            “N-Nothing,” said Stiles.

            He started picking at his salad that he ordered. He was relatively quiet through the rest of lunch, bothered by the name that was calling him. The last time he called, they ended up having a one-night stand in which, before he left, told Stiles that he was a terrible father, and that he enjoyed watching him struggle. Stiles only took part in that previous night’s events in hopes to get back with him, but it was clear that he was only there for some instant gratification. After realizing how hard his emotions were played, Stiles vowed to stay away from him.

            They finished their lunch, and as they went into the parking lot, Derek stopped, staring directly at Stiles.

            “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” he asked. “You suddenly got really quiet, for a while.”

            “I’m fine,” said Stiles, with a chuckle. “Relax.”

            Before he could finish the word, Derek had him in a tight embrace. His firm body provided comforting warmth for Stiles, which immediately put him at ease.

            “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong,” said Derek. “And I’d do my best to try and help you.”

            Stiles put his arms around Derek. What else was he supposed to say? There’s nothing Derek could do to make it better, at least at this stage of their relationship, whatever that was…

            “Thank you,” said Stiles.

            They each went back to their mundane jobs, Stiles’ being more mundane. Though it wasn’t his favorite place to be, he agreed that he could be working in a much worse place. He made a decent amount of money for someone who was still in school, and that was what mattered to him.

            For some reason, it seemed that everyone wanted to get lattés that afternoon, so the coffee shop was swamped. Stiles made drinks as fast as he possibly could, trying as hard as possible to get everyone out the door in a quick and joyful manner. He ended up coming across a cup with that name on it, which almost would have made him quiver in his non-slip shoes, but it was the last cup in the rush, and he was determined to get through it to finally have a break.

            “Vanilla latte for Isaa—“ he said, stopping when he saw who was waiting for it.

            “You missed the ‘C’,” he said.

            “Have a nice day,” said Stiles, trying to pretend like he had other things to attend to.

            “Oh, come on, now. Is that really how it’s gonna be?”

            Stiles huffed, telling his coworkers that he was taking a five-minute break as he hung his apron in the back room. He walked passed Isaac, who promptly followed, and Stiles lead them out to the front of the shop.

            “I thought I told you to stop bothering me,” said Stiles.

            “Yes, you ‘thought’,” said Isaac, sipping on his drink. “I’m not a mind reader, though.”

            “You said you enjoyed watching me fail, Isaac. I think we’re done. You need to stop coming back and making me miserable again.”

            “Now that’s not my fault, and you know it. I can’t make you feel anything.”

            It was like this any time they talked. Stiles poured his fragile little feelings out for Isaac to handle, and Isaac would swat them away with his rude remarks. It was only one of the many reasons why they broke up.

            “What do you want?” said Stiles, gritting his teeth.

            “Just wanted to talk,” said Isaac. “How’s life? Is Scott still a little brat? Have—“

            “Don’t you _dare_ talk about him like that.”

            Isaac stopped, stared at Stiles for a moment, and chuckled. It became obvious that his convincing threat had no effect on him.

            “Have you met anyone?”

            Stiles wanted to let it all out. He wanted to tell him all about Derek, and how he was the sweetest, hottest, strongest, most caring person who’s ever taken interest in him. He wanted to do it so bad, but he knew it would mean he was no better than Isaac by shoving his successes in his face. He wasn’t even sure if they were going to end up together. He figured, as long as Isaac still thought he was miserable, he wouldn’t try to ruin it.

            However, rather than lying, he just chose not to say.

            “My five minutes is up,” said Stiles. “Like I said, please leave me alone.”

            “That was only four minutes,” said Isaac. “But whatever.”

            It could never just be a simple “goodbye” with him. It was never clean and happy. He always had to do something to make it hurt. He had to do something to make that goodbye crawl right under one’s skin and let it eat them away inside. Stiles tried his best not to let it do this.

            He had a date with a hot, sweeter-than-chocolate firefighter, and he’d be damned if he let his ex-loser ruin it for him. He needed a positive change in his less than desirable life, and he was determined to keep Isaac from ruining it.

 

            Stiles stumbled out of the shower and dried himself off as fast as he could. After throwing some clothes on (ones he considered more presentable than normal), he left his bedroom and went into Scott’s. He was sitting on his favorite Buzz Lightyear chair, looking through a pile of DVD’s that filled his lap.

            “Did you find a movie yet?” Stiles asked, as he was trying to get one of his shoes on.

            “No,” he said. “Does Lydia like Toy Story?”

            “Maybe,” said Stiles. “She might like a princess movie.”

            Scott made a “blegh” sort of noise, and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. He went back into his room to finish getting ready, and after his final preparations, he went into Scott’s room to tell him that it was time to go. After finally deciding on _Beauty and the Beast_ , (he thought she’d like it because Belle was smart), they headed out of his house and into his car.

            Stiles and Derek finally found a night where they could have a real, formal date, and Derek’s sister, Laura, would watch the kids while they went out.

            They arrived at Derek’s house, which looked quite extravagant. It was a two-story house, and the outside was colored in a dark shade of red. Stiles pulled up in front of the yard, and got Scott out of his seat before he walked through up the driveway and rang the doorbell.

            A beautiful, dark-haired woman answered the door, and Lydia was by her side.

            “You must be Stiles,” she said.

            “That would be correct,” said Stiles. “And you must be Laura.”

            “Also correct,” said Laura, crouching down to Scott’s level. “And this must be Scott.”

            Scott held onto Stiles’ leg, held Peter tighter, and this prompted Laura to chuckle.

            “You like Beauty and the Beast?” Laura asked, pointing at his movie. “I don’t think Lydia’s ever seen that one. Maybe we can watch it tonight.”

            Laura invited them in, and after closing the door, she looked down at Lydia, who seemed to be giving her some sort of death glare.

            “Auntie Laura,” she said. “I _thought_ I was gonna give you a make-over.”

            “We’ll have time for both,” she said. “Maybe Scott will wanna help you, with that.”

            “What’s a make-over?” Scott asked, timidly.

            Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes. Though this kind of behavior might make her own parent scold her, Stiles couldn’t help but smile at her grown-up mannerisms.

            “We get to put make-up on her,” she said. “But _I_ get to do it. You can get stuff out of the bag when I need it.”

            Lydia decided it was good to educate Scott on what was what in the make-up bag, so they scurried off to the bathroom, leaving Stiles and Laura alone in the family room.

            “She _loves_ make-up,” said Laura. “But my brother, like the good parent he is, won’t let her wear any ‘til she’s older. I figured this way she can still have fun, and still follow her daddy’s rules.”

            Derek must have been walking down the hall, because Stiles heard the words “Hi, Scott” and “Lydia, you better not be putting any of that on”, followed by “I’m not, daddy”. His footsteps were increasingly louder until he appeared in the living room, smiling at Stiles.

            “Laura,” he said. “You could have told me that they were here.”

            “Sorry, princess,” she said. “I know how you are when you want to look nice. You get all sour, and shit if people try to interrupt your ‘process’, or whatever.”

            Derek greeted Stiles with a big, loving hug, and out of the corner of his eye, Stiles could see Laura chuckling. That was then followed by a slight thud, and her laughing ceased. Stiles could only assume that Derek kicked her foot, or something.

            “Well, should we get going?” Derek asked. “Our reservations are in twenty minutes.”

            Derek offered to drive, and before they left, Stiles went down the hall and found Scott and Lydia in the bathroom so he could say good-bye to his son. He was greeted by an impatient look from Lydia.

            “Just tellin’ Scott I’m leaving,” he said. “And then you can talk to him about make-up, again.”

            He gave Scott a big hug, telling him the typical parent things when leaving them at someone’s house. “Be good” and all the other clichés, essentially.

            “I will,” said Scott, sounding bothered, like any kid would after that speech.

            Derek was next in line, and after giving his daughter a hug, he looked her dead in the eyes.

            “Be nice to Scott,” he whispered. “Don’t leave him out of anything, okay?”

            “Okay,” she said, sounding just as bothered as Scott did.

            As Stiles and Derek walked out to the family room, he thanked Laura for taking care of them while they went on this date. She claimed it was no problem, and they headed out the door.

            “Be good, kids,” she said, with a playful smirk. “Don’t get into trouble!”

            Derek rolled his eyes.

            “Can you believe she’s my sister?”

            “Not at all,” said Stiles, sarcastically.

            They hopped into Derek’s car and headed to this mystery restaurant. Derek wanted to keep it a surprise, although he assured Stiles that this was the best restaurant in town. Stiles took his word for it, though.

            They arrived at a restaurant called _Wine and Dine_ , and Stiles could actually feel his eyes light up. He read about it in a magazine while waiting for Scott’s annual check-up, but a five-star restaurant was always out of his price range, so he never had the chance to go. However, he felt like he still couldn’t afford it, but he couldn’t kill a date like that. He just figured not eating for a week would be worth it.

            “Ready?” Derek asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

            “Yeah,” said Stiles, trying to control his unsteady breathing as they left the car.

            The restaurant itself was even better than what Stiles pictured. The lighting was so dim, that you could really only see the person in front of you, and maybe the waiter when they come to take your order. The restaurant had a nice, cozy nature to it, even though it looked as if they were dining in some celebrity mansion.

            The hostess, dressed in a black suit with a white button-up under it, guided them to a booth. After she told them to enjoy their meal, Stiles looked at the menu, and the prices made him feel like the last thing he’d be doing that night is actually enjoying his forty-dollar steak. He wondered if a dish could really be worth that, when he could buy almost a week’s worth of groceries for him and Scott with that much.

            “Get whatever you’d like,” said Derek. “I’m buying.”

            “No sir,” said Stiles. “I can’t let you pay this much for one meal. That would be a cruel, unusual punishment. I don’t even think—“

            “Oh stop,” said Derek. “You’re still a student. You have a full time job, no one helping you with expenses, and a kid to worry about. Let me buy you dinner. You deserve it.”

            “That might have been a bad move, on your part,” said Stiles. “Now I’m gonna pick the most expensive thing, even if I don’t like it.”

            Derek laughed, which made Stiles feel all warm and fuzzy. Nothing made him feel better than getting a laugh out of someone he really liked.

            Derek ordered two glasses of champagne, even though Stiles insisted that he didn’t need any. He could tell that Derek was keen on giving him a great night, whether or not Stiles would let him.

            It was one of the best nights of Stiles’ life, so far. They were talking, eating fancy little appetizers that Stiles couldn’t remember the name of (Stiles gave up on modesty, by that point), and each of them wore a permanent smile upon their face. He couldn’t think of anything that would ruin this date.

            After they ordered entrees, he was then immediately reminded of what would ruin his date when he felt vibration after vibration coming from his pant’s pocket.

            “Oh my god,” said Stiles. “Whoever this is needs to stop making my pants—“

            He looked at the messages, and his heart dropped. It was from Isaac, and each message was some snarky remark about Derek. “He looks like a douche” and “Wow he could have done better on his shaving his stubble is DISGUSTING”.

            “What’s wrong?” asked Derek. “And this time, you’re gonna tell me, right?”

            “It’s nothing,” said Stiles, as he frantically looked around the restaurant.

            “Stiles.”

            He looked at Derek, who was giving him a suspicious look. He sighed, trying to relax before he explained the situation.

            “I kind of have a douche-bag for an ex,” he said.

            “Sounds pretty typical,” said Derek. “But go on.”

            Stiles went into his “sob story”, as he called it, about how Isaac only ever made him feel like a worthless piece of crap. Stiles barely had enough time for school and a part-time job, but Isaac insisted that he was ready for kids. After threatening to leave him, Stiles figured, why not? He liked kids, and with a committed partner to help him, he would be able to have time to do the things he wanted. Things worked okay for a while, until Isaac complained all the time about Stiles being too busy for him (he ended up taking care of Scott the most, since Isaac thought school was easy, or something). It turned into Isaac making demands that Stiles couldn’t meet, beating him until he gave in. He took it, because he knew two care-givers for Scott would be better than one, until the day he saw Isaac slap Scott across the face. That was the last straw, and Stiles took his son and left.

            “That’s terrible,” said Derek, his eyes full of concern.

            “Yeah, and I think he’s—“

            “Well hello, gentlemen.”

            The sweat fired out of Stiles’ forehead like bullets as he looked up at Isaac.

            “Mind if I take a seat?” he asked, sitting down, anyway.

            “Who are you?” Derek asked, his brows creased with confusion.

            “Um, Derek,” said Stiles. “This is Isaac. You know, who we were literally just talking about.”

            “You two were talking about me?” he asked. “Hey, Stiles. Did you tell him how good I am in b—“

            “What the hell do you want?” asked Stiles, a bit louder than he intended.

            The other people in the restaurant looked at them with disgust, and Stiles hunched over a bit more, feeling the shame.

            “Just wanted to say hi,” he said. “I saw you from across the room, and figured it would be polite to greet you.”

            “Excuse me,” said Derek. “Judging my what he’s already told me, I don’t think you should be sitting here.”

            “Excuse you, I was talking to Stiles.”

            “Don’t make me say it again.”

            The two of them were staring at each other, and Stiles could almost see the fire bursting out of their glances. Isaac eventually just laughed it off, and put his arm around Stiles. He didn’t dare shrug it off; Isaac was drunk, he could smell it, and his temper was worse when he was drunk.

            “What does he see in you?” Isaac asked. “Because I sure as hell don’t see it.”

            “Who are you even here with?” Stiles asked.

            “Her name’s Erica,” he said, pointing off in the distance.

            They looked over to the direction he gestured to, and Stiles saw a girl with long, blond curly hair, who seemed to be terrified. Stiles knew the feeling; that’s exactly how he looked when they were still together.

            “You beating her, too?” Derek asked.

            “Excuse me?”

            “Derek,” said Stiles, concerned.

            “She looks like a scared little puppy. Can you really only keep a relationship by being intimidating?”

            Isaac’s jaw clenched; Stiles could see it.

            “Watch it,” he said.

            “Or what?” Derek asked. “You’re just a pathetic little—“

            The intimate nature of the restaurant worked to Isaac’s advantage because the booth allowed them to sit close enough to where he could send his fist right into Derek’s nose. Derek’s head jerked back, and he then held his nose with his hands, glaring at Isaac. The whole restaurant went silent.

            “Isaac,” Stiles barked, half whispering. “What the—“

            Before he could finish, Derek had a hold of Isaac’s head, and he slammed it onto the table. That was the declaration of war. They were then out of their seats and taking swings at each other. Stiles hopped out of the booth and tried desperately to separate them, but their tussle was too intense. No matter how much Stiles told them to stop, as he tried to squeeze between them (and gaining a few blows to the face, as well).

            “Stop!” said a booming voice, after what felt to be an hour to Stiles, but what was probably only about a minute.

            The two of them finally ceased fire. Derek’s nose was covered in blood, and Isaac’s face only looked to be scraped in a few places.

            “You two need to leave,” said the man with the loud voice. “People are complaining, and some have already left.”

            Stiles didn’t feel like he needed to announce it, so he made the choice to call the police himself. As soon as he pulled out his phone, and dialed only the “9”, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, and saw the timid girl, Erica, who was there with Isaac. She dragged him off to the side, just out of earshot of her douche-bag boyfriend.

            “If you’re calling the police,” she said. “Don’t bother. I already did. I figured it was time to save us both, yeah?”

            Stiles half smiled, and thanked her.

            In the meantime, Isaac was arguing with the manager about the situation, trying to pin it all on Derek. A few reliable witnesses argued back, saying that they caught every second of it. Another woman, who claimed to be a nurse, was trying to help Derek, telling him that he really needed to go to the hospital. That was the only part of the conversation that Stiles heard before he heard the sirens outside. Isaac looked out, saw the flashing lights, and looked back at Stiles.

            “You did that,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

            “Nope,” said Stiles. “But damn, am I glad it happened.”

            When the officers walked through the door, Erica pointed them out to the culprit, and one of them cuffed him and escorted him to the car. After that crisis was averted, Stiles walked over to the nurse, who was joined by the other officer.

            “I’m fine,” said Derek, with a napkin shoved against his nose. “I’ve had worse. Look, the bleeding stopped, anyway.”

            He took the napkin off, and it was still bleeding, but much slower than it was before.

            “Any trouble breathing?” she asked. “Your nose still looks like a nose. Not a deformed version of one.”

            “No,” he said. “It’s just sore. I’m fine, really. I don’t need an ambulance.”

            After the whole situation was done and over, Derek said he just wanted to go home, so that’s precisely what happened. They rode back to his home in silence, and Derek still had the napkin pressed to his nose. Stiles couldn’t handle the silent car-ride anymore; he felt at fault for what happened.

            “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think he would be there.”

            “It’s fine,” said Derek. “It’s not your fault.”

            They arrived at Derek’s house, and upon unlocking the door, they walked into the family room where Lydia and Scott were both asleep on the couch under one of Lydia’s favorite Disney princess blankets. As cute as it was, Stiles couldn’t even smile at it.

            “Hey,” said Laura. “They didn’t make it through _Beauty and the Beast_.”

            She got up, and as she got closer, Stiles saw the art that was her face. Lydia over-did it, but she was in kindergarten. He didn’t expect much else.

            “So how’s it look?” she asked, gesturing to her face.

            “You’re ready for the runway,” said Stiles. “So did Scott and Lydia get along okay?”

            “More or less. Scott basically went along with everything she wanted to do. I think he just didn’t want to get made fun of. You know how she is…”

            She changed her focus to Derek, and her brow creased.

            “What happened?” she asked. “Is Stiles just so hot, that your nose just spontaneously started bleeding?”

            “Some idiot hit me in the nose,” said Derek. “Apparently he was Stiles’ ex. Don’t worry about it, though. He got arrested.”

            Laura looked halfway between shocked and wanting to laugh. Stiles could only assume that she was trying to figure out a way to lighten up the situation.

            “Quite the night, you two had,” she said.

            Stiles walked over to the couch and stroked his son’s hair, trying to gently wake him. Once Scott’s eyes fluttered open, Stiles smiled at him.

            “Hey buddy,” he said. “It’s time to go home.”

            “Okay,” he said.

            Lucky for Stiles, Scott became very cooperative when he was really tired. Lydia woke up shortly after, and Scott told her goodbye before Stiles picked him up and carried him toward the door. He thanked Laura one last time for babysitting, told Derek goodbye, and walked out the door.

            “Wait,” said Scott. “Daddy, wait. I have to tell Lydia something.”

            Stiles let him go, and Scott ran into the house. For the moment he was standing out on the front porch by himself, he looked at Derek, and smiled as if it was a silent apology. After Scott ran back through the door, Derek waved goodbye to Stiles. He couldn’t tell if Derek smiled back, and it made his heart sink.

            They got in the car and started heading home. Scott was still dead tired, so getting details about his play-date with Lydia was like trying to get him to leave Peter in his bedroom when he had to take a bath.

            “What did you have to tell Lydia?” Stiles asked.

            “That I had a lot of fun with her,” he said.

            “Well that’s very sweet of you, Scott.”

            “Daddy, when can I play with her, again?”

            Stiles took in a deep breath. As innocent as it was, it cut Stiles kind of deep. He couldn’t tell whether Derek was mad about what happened, and whether or not his anger was at Stiles or Isaac. Stiles couldn’t think of why his anger would be directed at him, but with how chaotic the whole night was, the only thing he was sure of is that he was finally free of Isaac. However, his bigger worry was whether or not Derek would see passed the disaster.

            “Hopefully soon,” said Stiles.

 

            It was Christmas Eve, and a few days after the fight. Stiles sent him a text the day after, asking if his nose was okay. Derek only answered briefly, saying that it was getting better, and Stiles’ overactive-thought process made him assume that he didn’t want to be bothered. He assumed Derek was busy for the holidays anyway, and after the joyful, but chaotic time of year, he would call him.

            It was Stiles’ tradition to wrap all of his presents for his family the night before Christmas. Sure, it was last minute, but it got him into the Christmas spirit, just as much as singing and the smell of gingerbread. Scott decided he wanted to help this year, and Stiles gave him the role of “tape manager”. The official title made Scott’s eyes widen, and he started his job with enthusiasm. Stiles was sure that he would get bored, but after he made it to the third present, he was still managing the tape.

            “Well,” said Stiles. “That’s all the presents for Grandpa.”

            “Can we wrap mine next?” he asked, beaming.

            “No, we cannot,” said Stiles, gently poking Scott’s nose. “Nice try.”

            The doorbell rang, and both Stiles’ and Scott’s head popped up, looking in the direction of the door.

            “Wonder who it could be,” said Stiles, starting to walk toward the door.

            “Is it Santa!?” Scott asked, overloading his words with enthusiasm.

            “He goes down the chimney, silly,” said Stiles.

            He peeked through the peephole, and had to remind himself how to breathe when he saw that it was Derek. He opened the door, and saw that he was not only accompanied with Lydia, but with two other kids as well. One was a dark haired girl, and the other was a light-brown haired boy. He then noticed that Derek was holding a tray of homemade cookies, and Stiles’ mouth watered at the sight (of both the cookies and the fact that Derek could bake). They sang the first verse of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” and Stiles applauded them. Scott clapped shortly after from beside Stiles.

            “I was wondering when I was gonna get carolers,” said Stiles.

            “Lydia and I are starting a tradition,” said Derek. “We bring cookies to the people in our life that we like. This year, Lydia’s friend, Allison, and her brother, Jackson, tagged along as well, since their father got stuck at work, for some reason.”

            “How sweet of you all,” said Stiles. “Come on in, guys. It’s freezing, out there.”

            They all scurried in, and Stiles shut the door. Stiles showed Derek where he could set the tray of cookies in the kitchen, and as they walked back to the family room, they witnessed the children starting to mingle.

            “I’m Scott,” said Scott, to Allison.

            “I’m Allison,” she said. “I like your wolf. What’s his name?”

            “Peter.”

            Jackson coughed loudly, and Scott looked at him.

            “What’s your name?” he asked.

            “This is Jackson,” said Lydia, right as Jackson opened his mouth to answer. “His daddy has a lot of money and he can probably buy a lot of make-up and clothes, if he wanted to.”

            “I can tell him my name all by myself, Lydia,” said Jackson, with an irritated tone.

            Stiles chuckled. He could already tell where their relationship was going.

            “Look!” said Lydia, ignoring Jackson’s complaint. “It’s snowing! Daddy can we please, please, please go out at play in the snow? Ple-ease?”

            She was now over by Derek, tugging on his pant leg, saying “please” over and over again.

            “I don’t see why not,” said Derek. “As long as it’s okay with Stiles.”

            “Sure,” said Stiles.

            Scott tapped Stiles lightly on his leg, and he looked down at his son, whose eyes alone equaled the amount of pleading that Lydia vocalized.

            “Can I play in the snow, too?” asked Scott.

            “Of course,” said Stiles. “You need to get your jacket and your hat, first.”

            “Will you be mad at me? I’m supposed to be tape manager…”

            “Well, I guess you can have a break from managing my tape. Go have fun.”

            He ruffled his son’s hair before he ran to his room. After he was suited up for the snow, the kids went outside, and the parents stood by the window to keep an eye on them.

            Before Stiles could even ask Derek why he came here, Derek pulled out a box from a plastic bag he was holding, and handed it to Stiles.           

            “I figured, since we didn’t get to finish our dinner,” he said. “We might as well be able to share the best part of the meal, together.”

            “So you’re not mad?” Stiles asked. “I mean, my past basically punched you in the nose.”

            “It’s not your fault that he’s a controlling dirt bag. And my nose is okay, so I guess I can forgive you.”

            Stiles opened the box, and inside was probably the most beautiful slice of cake he had ever seen. It was chocolate, for sure, and it had swirls of white chocolate on the top layer, which looked like frosting. It was garnished with a few raspberries, and a mint leaf.

            “Are we actually supposed to eat this?” asked Sties. “It looks too pretty.”

            “Well,” said Derek. “Beautiful dessert for a beautiful guy. It sounds cheesy, I know, but it’s the holidays, I’m stressed, and that’s all I could think of.”

            Yeah, it was cheesy, but Stiles blushed anyway. He closed the box, and set it on the counter.

            “Thank you,” he said. “Wanna eat this outside? I know it’s cold, but I have a few space heaters outside that my dad gave me. Might as well join the kids, yeah?”

            “Sure,” said Derek, with a smile. “I don’t mind.”

            Stiles grabbed some forks and put on some warmer clothes before they moved outside. He plugged in the space heaters, which didn’t provide too much more warmth, but it was enough to make them comfortable in the thirty-degree weather.

            The kids seemed to be making snow forts. Scott and Allison were busily constructing a fort of considerable size, while Jackson was working alone. Lydia seemed to take it upon herself to make the fort pretty, so she made a snowman in the front of the fort. Jackson whined about making the whole fort himself, but Lydia just insisted that if they were going to spend the time on it, they might as well make it pretty as well.

            The adults took their first bites into the cake, and Stiles couldn’t stop talking about how delicious it was. Every bite was filled with moans of chocolate pleasure, and the cake was so rich, that after the last bite was gone, Stiles claimed to never want to eat chocolate again.

            They sat and watched the kids play for a while before Derek broke the silence.

            “I don’t mean to pry,” said Derek. “But why Isaac?”

            Stiles sighed. He figured if Derek stuck with him after his ex punched him in the face, telling him his reasons for dating him couldn’t be much worse.

            “He seemed like he had everything together,” said Stiles. “He was established, had a good job, and I needed someone like that in my life. I just didn’t realize he would turn out to be such a douche.”

            He didn’t even realize it, but he started crying. He felt the tears roll down his face, and then he felt Derek’s arm around him, pulling him closer. Stiles didn’t fight it, and didn’t even feel nervous as a result. It felt nice, being held by his strong arms, and he let his head rest against his chest.

            “I just couldn’t handle it after he hurt Scott,” he said. “I was such a spineless idiot up until then. I guess I could have been more of a doormat, but how was I so stupid to let the abuse get that far? If I would have just left, I could have protected Scott.”

            Derek rested his head on Stiles’, and his hand moved up and down along his back.

            “You did what you needed to,” said Derek. “You did what you thought was right. I’m sure Isaac was nice for financial support, but enough was enough. You left at a good time. That was only the start of what he could do to Scott. He should have been grateful that you gave him the benefit of the doubt, and didn’t call the police on him.”

            He was right. Derek’s ability to make him feel so much more calm made him feel so at home. So much, that the cold didn’t even affect him.

            The kids must have taken a break, because now they were all talking to each other. Scott was next to Allison, and Lydia was next to Jackson. They were talking loudly, and it was apparent that they were all comfortable with each other, now. Stiles noticed, though, that every time Scott looked at Allison, he smiled. It could just be for a moment, but no matter what, he smiled at her.

            Soon, he saw Scott running toward him.

            “Daddy,” he said, very seriously. “I like Allison. She’s pretty and funny and she makes forts really good. How do you make a girl like you?”

            Derek chuckled, and Stiles couldn’t help but smile at his little man. It’s like he was growing up so fast.

            “Whoa, buddy,” said Stiles. “You can’t just _make_ a girl like you. Maybe you can make her a snowflake or something, like you made for our tree. Girls like crafts.”

            “Good idea,” said Scott. “But not right now. We have to beat Lydia and Jackson in a snowball fight.”

            Scott scurried back to his group, and soon after, they dispersed and started the snowball fight. Stiles’ parental instincts caused him to warn them about hitting them in the face, and not to let rocks get into the snowballs. He had no idea if they were actually listening, but getting the message out there made him feel better.

            Derek got up from his seat and moved out into the yard, packing some snow up in his hands and smiling.

            “I, Derek Hale,” he said. “Challenge you, Stiles Stilinksi, to a snowball fight of our own.”

            Stiles smirked and rushed over to the snow-covered yard.

            “You’re so gonna regret this.”

            Stiles packed up a ball of snow, and threw it at Derek, who dodged it with incredible speed. Derek then threw his, but Stiles ducked out of the way. Eventually, they both threw a snowball at the same time, and this seemed to cause the children to halt their match.

            “Your daddy hit my daddy,” said Scott.

            “And _your_ daddy hit _my_ daddy,” said Lydia.

            “Get him!” they screamed in unison.

            Scott and Allison threw snowballs at Derek, while Lydia and Jackson were throwing snowballs at Stiles. The adults found this hilarious, laughing as each of the snowballs hit them, and they eventually laid down on the ground.

            “Okay, okay!” Stiles exclaimed.

            “We surrender!” said Derek. “You guys are too powerful.”

            The kids congratulated themselves, and decided to call the match off. Lydia decided that snow angels would be the next activity.

            Derek stood up first, and offered a hand to Stiles, pulling him up from the snow.

            “How on earth do you have some on your face?” Derek asked, starting to brush it off with his thumb.

            “Those kids are just so ruthless,” he said.

            In that moment, their eyes met, Derek’s hand was still on Stiles’ face and Stiles could feel something inside him. He could feel it about to happen. Derek’s eyes glistened, and Stiles could feel his stomach doing flips. Derek leaned in, Stiles closed his eyes, and in mere moments, he could feel Derek’s lips gently press against his own. If that moment was a cartoon show, his heart would have burst out of his chest.

            “Eww,” Stiles could hear Scott say. “Kissing, gross.”

            “No it’s not,” said Lydia. “It’s romantic.”

            Derek pulled away and laughed.

            “Leave it up to my little one,” he said.

            “She’s way mature for her age,” said Stiles.

            Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’ again, and Stiles couldn’t shake the butterfly feeling. It felt nice, though; the oxytocin running through his body was a nice change. It made him feel warm, unlike the weather outside.

            “We should probably head inside,” said Stiles. “Before those kids get sick, or something.”

            “Good idea,” he said. “But how? They’re having so much fun.”

            Stiles knew _exactly_ how to do that.

            “Hey, everybody! Come inside if you want hot chocolate!”

            This spurred an immediate reaction. They all ran inside before the nerves in Stiles’ brain could tell his feet to move.

            After he made the four of them some hot cocoa, he offered some to Derek, who was still recovering from a chocolate coma. Stiles laughed, because he knew exactly how he was feeling. He turned on _a How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ for the kids, and Stiles and Derek sat at the kitchen table. Derek’s hand found Stiles’, and he held it gently.

            “Christmas is kind of a hectic day for Lydia and I” he said. “So just in case I don’t get the chance to tell you…Merry Christmas.”            

            “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

            They kissed again, and did so for longer than they did outside. It was different with Derek. It didn’t feel like a dominance thing, like it did with Isaac. When he kissed Isaac, it was like Isaac was trying to push him into submission, but with Derek, it was gentler. It was like he did it out of gentle care, rather than to be aggressive.

            It was a nice change, and Stiles needed that more than he could ever imagine.

 

            The next day was chaotic and full of Scott getting up early and opening presents, all on top of getting ready to go to Papa Stilinski’s house. It was, of course, one of the hardest things to do, since all Scott wanted to do was play with the new toys that Stiles (and Santa) gave him. Through the chaos of the day, though, Stiles managed to hear his phone ring, and when he went out to the kitchen to check it, he saw Scott still playing with his new space station.

            “Scott,” said Stiles. “I told you that you could take that to Grandpa’s house. You said you would start packing it up.”

            “The captain has to land, still!” he said, in distress.

            “He needs to hurry. Grandpa doesn’t like when we’re late.”

            He looked at his phone and his heart fluttered after seeing the name “Derek Hale” on his phone. He opened the text, and it said simply: “Merry Christmas :)” Stiles responded back quickly with, “Right back at ya, handsome ;)”

            He did it. Amongst the chaos of Christmas day, even though he said he might not be able to, he did it. He kept a promise that he didn’t even make.

            Stiles did just that; he had a very Merry Christmas, knowing that someone cared for him exactly the way he wanted. It was just what he needed, and just in time to enjoy it for the holidays. 


End file.
